


so get away (you cannot follow me)

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Political Marriage, honestly ensemble from both golden deer and blue lions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 04:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “today,” claude says, “we fight back.”dimitri has lost count of how many days have passed since they left the capital and started fighting in earnest. he has no concept of how many bodies he’s knocked out of his path, be them still breathing or long slipped away. he no longer harbors memories of the conversations he’s had, no longer bothers in engaging in moments that will mean nothing in the end. but dimitri knows, with all certainty, that this is the day that he dies.--or, claude and dimitri engage in a last resort marriage. things get worse before they get better.





	so get away (you cannot follow me)

**Author's Note:**

> title from nightwatch by tegan and sara.
> 
> i really love claude and dimitri so much but they don't have supports together so i just needed to combine their stories in some way, i guess. this fic starts right after dimitri would've escaped from jail in blue lions' route, but everything up until then is pretty canon-compliant.

great tree moon

“you must be joking.”

they’ve made a base in fraldarius, after having smuggled the would-be crown prince in like a criminal. nearly three nights have come and gone with very little sleep from anyone, and the kitchen is a mess of papers and teacups more or less broken by dimitri himself. it had taken quite a lot to get him to contain his anger again, or at the very least momentarily redirect it, yet it doesn’t stop the guilt from eating away at him. the headaches come and go much more frequently than before, but rodrigue holds him steady. 

it’s been a long while since it’d been just the three of them—or at least, everything feels further away with all the constant changes. edelgard’s declared war against not only the church, but what seems like the entirety of fodlan. byleth, the mysterious saving grace that’d been working as their professor, had disappeared as suddenly as they’d arrived (as did lady rhea). hell, he’d even been sentenced with the murder of his last living relative, and his own people had been so quick to turn against him it made him feel sick. be it from the idea that they thought he was capable of it, or from the knowledge that there _ was _ that darkness laying dormant inside of him, however, is debatable.

still, there are parts of him that missed the constant bantering between felix and his father, dark sided as they may get. it felt a lot like the past, back when dimitri’s biggest worry was properly honoring his father’s legacy. but then he lingers too long in that thread of thought and remembers they’re all filling in for people who are no longer living. a father, a brother, a son—it’s an ugly thought, and he knows it to be true, yet he’d never voice it for all the vengeance in the world. they’ve all suffered enough. their imitation of peace couldn’t hurt them more.

rodrigue’s standing beside dimitri’s chair at the head of the table, setting down another cup of tea. there’s hardly any taste to it anymore, but it’s something on his stomach and it’s keeping him ready and mildly alert. “look, if we’re going to have a leg up on the empire, then we need to gain as much additional land as we can. we’ve already lost the capital to cordelia and she’s made you a fugitive in turn to get a few more regions. we lose anything else, or they find you before we make our move, then we’re all as good as dead.”

“and if you think this is a good time for you to start having morals and be selfish, then let me remind you just a few short hours ago you were quite vividly describing the manner in which you’d behead your own classmate.” felix adds. _ step-sister, _ dimitri thinks bitterly, but that’s another thread of conversation he’s not willing to get into. not quite yet, at least. “i think we all have our bones to pick with her given the situation, but you running off and calling for any and all bloodshed won’t get us to her any faster.”

dimitri inhales, unclenching his fists. he ignores the stinging sensation on his palms from where his nails have left imprints, and reads over the paper in front of him once more, forcing himself through line after line until he reaches the end for the third time. “and you’re certain this is the only way?”

“we want to prioritize the lives of innocent, but also it gives you a bit of sanctuary as well. this sort of agreement will give us access to the land and troops we’ll need, cast less of a shadow on your dethronement, and ensure that the people who never asked to be apart of this have a safe place to go to.” rodrigue says. “the trading cost of your hand is a fairly small price in retrospect.”

“but doesn’t that make you even more suspicious of why they’d offer something like this? what do they gain from it?” dimitri shakes his head, “we’re wasting time on something as useless as this while she’s destroying the monastery. we should be mobilizing and figuring out her next move so we can—”

“if we go out there right now, unorganized and currently lacking support from any of the other houses, you will be marching us all to our deaths.” felix snaps. “i’m not glenn. i’m not losing my life for an idiot like you.”

dimitri starts to speak but rodrigue continues, “regardless of what path we take, at the very least i have to make sure you remain safe. this union has more pros than cons, and we can’t keep you in here forever, especially if you’re going to try retaliating. so i’m going to firmly suggest you think over what matters most to you in this moment, before we make a final decision.”

if he’d been asked yesterday, he would’ve said destroying edelgard and the empire. a few weeks more, and it would’ve been about surviving finals and getting one step closer to avenging the deaths of his loved ones. months before that, and it would’ve been simply keeping his friends safe and being a good leader. but dimitri had been failing miserably at all of this, even more so than usual, and thus he was at a loss. it felt right to want to pin everything on edelgard, to make her own up to the chaos and hell she’d brought on him and his dearest friends, but he knew part of the problem ran more internal than that. 

what mattered most? was it the kingdom that was slowly but surely turning completely against him? the fall of the church, leaving behind hundreds of thousands of confused worshippers and clergymen in its ashes? the lives across the nation that would be lost, simply due to being in the crossfire? his pride and need to come out as a hero, or at the very least some kind of victor in order to silence the noises in his head, to finally go a night without feeling like he’s failed everyone, to prove that their deaths were not in vain? and what was he willing to give up for it?

_this is_ _selfish_, he thinks. then he says, “they’re offering sanctum to everyone?”

“they’re offering land and bodies. what we do with either is a later issue.” rodrigue clarifies. “and if this works and we are able withstand the empire’s pushes, then—”

“—it’ll be another form of unification.” dimitri realizes. “more politically driven, though the body count would be less than if we did it her way.”

felix stills his pencil, “then this is their motive? to gain ground in the same manner that we would?”

“personally, i believe they’re just trying to save themselves from being completely ravaged by war. edelgard’s rallied the empire in such a way that everything’s already splitting off, and our window of time to save what’s left of dimitri’s honor and garner backing is dwindling.” rodrigue says. “we’ll have one shot at controlling the narrative here, and if cornelia’s lies spread out of the capital before we act, then i’m afraid even this won’t help us.”

dimitri rubs circles into his temples, “but why not just make it a less formal alliance?”

“because people can make alliances in the morning and turn their backs at first nightfall.” rodrigue starts to clean the table as he speaks, “i’ve lived through war before, dimitri. it is an ugly, uncaring blackhole that will turn everyone against each other if it means seeing another day. at least going this route decreases the possibility of knives ending up in backs.”

“we’d have a close eye on them, too. granted, they’d have the same advantages as us, but i personally wasn’t thinking of doing anything irrational in the first place. we can just keep a safe distance.” felix notes. “but it’s your decision, boar. do we sink or swim?”

he looks down at the paper once more, ignoring the churning in his stomach and the bile rising in his throat. it feels like the coward’s way out. he should be able to handle all of this on his own, if not just for the kingdom, but for the ones he cares about most. edelgard had cut him deeply, yes, but it was nothing compared to the losses they’d all face if she continued trudging on. but that meant acting fast, and assembling an army when you’ve been disgraced is near impossible. he would _ love _ to charge in alone, make her head snap off the same way she did his father’s—but it was a fool’s errand, and he’d only die more miserable than he was now.

“send the runner,” eventually falls from his lips. “we’ll meet in daphnel in two days time.”

—

harpstring moon

for all his years, dimitri had never pictured himself married. 

his mother died when he was barely aware of the world, so he never truly experienced what his father’s relationship with her was like, only knew it from stories. as for his step-mother, he always just assumed she was happy with his father. there were as many smiles as there were tears, he supposed, but the idea of such a partnership never really appealed to him one way or another. so he ended up burying himself in books and studies and training for most of his life, ignoring sylvain’s teasing of his lack of experience in romance and focusing on being the leader he was destined to be. a life alone would be less painful than a shared existence, after all, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of passing down another lineage of blaiddyd pain and suffering. he could barely contain it himself.

and so he doesn’t really dress up (despite rodrigue’s gentle suggestions), just changes from his dirtied academy wear to something more befitting of an eighteen year old taking a war head-on. distantly, he misses dedue’s companionship—he’d stood in for dimitri back at the capital, and they’d yet to hear anything of him returning to their meeting place—but he also forces himself to hold to the belief that their separation was only temporary, as is all things. like this war. like this wedding. like his life.

it’s private, because no one wants a spectacle in the midst of revolution. judith officiates, because priests were far and few as it were. and claude…

“kind of risked it all back there,” he says, once the formalities had been said and done. the yellow military dress makes him look brighter than ever, adorned with his own personalized touches here and there. it’s the same charm that made claude so likable back at the academy, why people were drawn to him and could listen to him go on for hours, but dimitri senses something behind that spark in his eyes that doesn’t quite come out in his tone. _ safe distances_, he remembers. “never thought you of all people would be up for something like this.”

“not much choice in times like this.” he’s not quite adjusted to the warmer weather, so he rolls his sleeves as they descend downward, felix and hilda not far behind. judith and rodrigue had left almost immediately to make a semiformal announcement to the public, and to start rallying support from the nearest parts of the kingdom and alliance, respectively. the two of them were tasked with making a plan of action, and claude seemed pleased enough to showcase their war room. “though, i can’t say i was exactly brimming with joy at the opportunity.”

claude snorts, “you’re not exactly brimming with anything right now.”

_ rage_, dimitri thinks. _ vehement anger. bloodlust. _ “perhaps not.”

“anyway, the empire. obviously, we have to start defending our territories before she gets more traction, but i think we can already count out fhirdiad and the monastery.” claude pushes open the door, revealing a wall covered with a map of their combined lands, already sorted into reds and blues and golds. “the eastern church is holding for now, but probably not much longer, though what we really should prioritize is—”

“you waste no time at all.” felix says, running his hand over the paper. “ink’s still fresh, so you’re not quite the mastermind i’d been expecting. how disappointing.”

“enough,” dimitri warns, and felix raises his hands in surrender. turning his attention back to claude, he continues. “i think we should prioritize the quickest route towards enbarr. she won’t be expecting a direct attack from the both of us, and we have at least a week before word gets back to her about our…”

“marriage? it’s not that hard of a word to say, sweetheart.” claude leans against the wall as dimitri finds himself a seat at the table in front of it. “i mean, i was planning to marry for _ some _ degree of love, but there have been worse candidates for a life partner. lorenz, for example.”

dimitri sighs, “and you joke, even still?”

“it might be taking the back burner for now, but if we survive all of this it’s not gonna magically erase everything. you’re as much stuck with me as i am with you. may as well get used to it now.” claude says. “besides, your plan’s shit. even with the troops from derdriu and fraldarius alone we wouldn’t make it through without killing what, eighty? ninety percent of our troops? she’s been planning this for years, dude, we need to prioritize keeping the bridge of myrddin blocked from their end, and then see that house goneril sides with us both before taking control of fodlan’s locket. then ailell—”

“how could goneril not side with us when hilda’s working at your side right now?” dimitri questions.

“contrary to what you may believe, we’re not the biggest fans of the empire _ or _the kingdom.” hilda sits on the opposite end of the table. “as far as holst is concerned, if the threat isn’t the almyrians then anything that occurs there is not of his control. that’s why we need time to build up relations both here and in faerghus. i’m assuming the only alliance you’re bringing is what felix’s father can offer?”

dimitri purses his lips, “i’m sure that house galatea and gautier will continue to side with us and send what they can to support our efforts.”

“yeah, but that’s not really coming off as certainty to me. you really think the guy who tried to marry off his daughter as if she were an animal for auction and the guy who essentially disowned his eldest son for not having a crest won’t jump ship the moment a better opportunity arises?” hilda says. “to have faith in your friends is admirable, but it’s best not to have any lingering attachment. we’re going to be fighting plenty of familiar faces on the battlefield.”

felix scowls, “would you be saying that if you were in his place?”

“of course.” hilda tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “this isn’t about feelings anymore. it’s about survival.”

“we’ll make sure to send correspondence to both houses, regardless, and i’ll be reaching out to holst and house ordelia personally.” claude adds. “though hilda, let’s be a bit more reasonable with our friends. were we speaking of house edmund, i’m sure you’d be a bit protective as well.”

hilda flushes, but doesn’t argue. 

“we’ll draw up a list of potential allies and then start sending out couriers. hilda, felix—i think preparing a pot of tea would be a great project for the two of you to bond over. there’s a small kitchen a few rooms over.”

“oh, you know i never quite learned to boil water properly…”

felix rolls his eyes, but waits for dimitri’s nod of approval before he moves towards the door. “i’m sure we’ll both figure out soon enough, then.”

the heavy wood squeaks shut behind them, and for the first time in ages, they are alone.

almost immediately he feels his palms grow sweaty, heart dropping low in his gut as claude’s facade shifts. dimitri’s not immune to the obvious appeal claude has on everyone he comes into contact with, nor is he immune to the way claude glances at him over the top of the notes he’s sorting through. he wants to say he’s used to it, but claude has the kind of effect sylvain longs for: soft eyes that make you feel special for being in his presence, a reassuring smile that makes your defenses fall ever-so-slightly, a voice that could hurt as much as it heals. and dimitri had fallen for it many a time.

men who longed for other men were a rarity in a noble setting, even rarer in a church one. dimitri had cared for his reputation above all else on top of this, and any rumors or proof of the would-be king of faerghus laying with another man would deter from (if not wholly destroy) all he’d been building towards as a leader. he wanted to be remembered as the king who reshaped their nation, the one who brought peace and acceptance to those in duscur, the one who made equality be at the forefront of his ideals. he wanted his time on this earth to _ mean _ something, and not be diminished by his choice in bed partners.

of course, in no stretch of his imagination would he have seen his political marriage to claude von reigan coming. on the one hand, claude had proved himself time and time again as a highly intelligent individual, and the types of deep connections he held with others at the monastery were priceless in a time like this. the way he conducted himself in the academy may have made him seem lacking, but as far as negotiating and making others see things his way, he was beyond skilled. on the other, however, he knew that this meant that there’d be no heir to either of their reigns, which could be a blessing or a curse. it also meant that he’d be going down as perhaps the only ruler of faerghus to have such a blatant relationship with another male, nevermind of the reason for it. 

it also meant he’d have to deal with claude for an indeterminable amount of time.

claude, who’d offered his bed to him on multiple occasions. claude, who’d been one of the few people not to wince while looking at his scars. claude, who always seemingly knew what to say when dimitri’s own words were lacking. claude, who was also notable for his questionable nature. claude, who often bided his time by sweet talking others into the plans that he’d lay. claude, who was as welcoming as he was all-consuming; a well-cherished ally and threat rolled into one, a dual edged sword with each end dipped in toxin.

“don’t hurt yourself with all that thinking,” he says eventually. “i only wanted to clear the room so we could discuss more personal matters.”

“such as?”

“your relationship with edelgard. notably, your shared mother.” claude puts down his papers. “where i received my information from is less of a dire concern. i just think it’s fairly important i fully understand this rift between my in-laws and how i’ve managed to be caught up in it.”

dimitri sighs, “i suppose there’s no avoiding it, then.”

“i’d appreciate it if you were straightforward, yes.”

“then you’ll have to excuse me for not knowing as much as it seems. her mother left the empire and my father fell madly in love with her, so quickly that their marriage happened without incident. her past remained a well-kept secret on the basis that the timing was never really right for a reveal, and because of the tension it might have caused between the empire and the kingdom. no one knows of it beside cordelia, edelgard, rodrigue, and myself. and you now, i suppose.” he says. “of course, she passed in the same incident that had taken my father away, and that has now been linked back to edelgard, which has diminished what little respect i had left for her as it was. my only feelings towards her now are fairly negative, and i doubt there will be anything done to change that. what she’s doing in the name of her own sense of justice is ridiculous, and i will do everything in my power to stop her from achieving her goal.”

claude nods, “cute. and you’re aware of her goal because…?”

“because it’s quite obvious she seeks to destroy the church. her first stop was the monastery, claude.” dimitri can feel a headache building. “are you trying to insinuate that i’m working with _ her? _the woman who has slain my father and the hundreds of thousands in duscur, not to mention the lives claimed at our last battle, our own professor one of them?”

“i just want to understand everything i’m dealing with here. if you’re trying to do something underhanded, that’s between you and seiros.” claude folds his arms. “not that i’ve much believed in that as of recent.”

“nor i,” dimitri says. “but whether we pray to the goddess or not, we can both agree that the way edelgard is going about this is completely uncalled for.”

the brunette nods again, eyes straying towards the map. “you know, we’re supposed to be getting ready for finals. spend the next week or two worried about graduation and then taking over these countries like babies in their parent’s shoes. now we get to spend the next few months plotting on how we’re going to either save our friends or fight them until the last breath.”

“it would’ve happened eventually,” dimitri hums. “the battle of the eagle and lion only did ever seem to spark more chaos than joy.”

“maybe so,” claude yawns, stretching out. “but joy’s fleeting anyway.”

a silence falls over the two of them, and dimitri finds himself meeting the other boy’s eyes once more. there’s something in them that always manages to draw him in, be it mischief or charm or lust, and leaves his chest tight. but he never looks away first. can’t, because it would be a loss of control. claude knows this better than anyone in the world, and so when he crosses the room, dimitri stays still.

he can recall their first encounter like this with such ease it pains him. their third year after the ball, when it’d all gotten to be too much, and claude had brought him water despite neither of them breaking a sweat. the conversation that followed was a blur, but following claude up the stairs of the dormitory and into his room he remembers. the feeling of claude’s mouth against his own, soft but not overly cautious, he remembers. the coolness of claude’s sheets against his wounds, he remembers. the whispers, the touches, the aches—

“your tea blends were housed in the main kitchen, so we improvised.” felix’s voice pulls him back, and claude is already back to being an ocean away. “is the list complete?”

dimitri starts to speak, but claude presses a folded paper into both felix and hilda’s hands. his face grows hot, flushed with embarrassment as claude gives them both directions on how to proceed with the runners. _ safe distances_, he remembers. _ keep your head_. “in the meantime, we’ll work more on our tactical approach. it’d be best to have all the options drawn out before we start mobilizing.”

felix raises a brow, “so we’re not attacking enbarr?”

“well, not at first,” dimitri says, while claude chimes in with a flat, “oh, it’d be ridiculous to.”

“looks like everyone’s on the same page here, then. good for that!” hilda places a cup in front of them both, then links arms with felix. “we’ll get a head start on getting these out, and hopefully we’ll hear back from everyone sooner rather than later.”

dimitri watches felix resist the urge to pry himself away from the woman beside him. “make sure to keep an ear out for dedue, as well.”

this time when they’re left alone, they remain at arms’ length.

—

garland moon

despite the seeds of doubt that hilda had attempted to sow, the responses from house galatea and house gautier do come back positively in a matter of days. claude, in turn, gains favor from house ordelia, and hilda reports that her brother will ally with them “for as long as it remains in his best interest”. dimitri supposes that it’s all he can really expect, given the situation and the high stakes of holst’s location. he just wishes that these things would be a little bit more concrete.

in the meantime, he and claude had been…strategizing, mainly. for much of the day, they’d be sharing the war room with rodrigue and judith, comparing data collections and thinking of plans a through z. in the late afternoons, felix would insist that dimitri continued his training (“you’re the only one i trust as my sparring partner,” he’d mumbled), and after scrounging together a meal he’d retire to his bedroom to either collapse in the darkness or to be plagued with unpleasant dreams. more often than not he’d push himself to the limits of his exhaustion to avoid the presence of the dreams, but that trick could only work so many times.

as far as other things were concerned, claude had been uncharacteristically quiet. ignoring the fact that there was no need for them to really build a relationship at the moment, dimitri had expected a little more of claude’s charm to come in their meetings, but it was almost more interesting to watch him focus in, jaw tight as he bring up plans for attacks that dimitri himself would’ve never bet on. in fact, a majority of his and judith’s strategies relied on risks; it was a huge counter to what he and rodrigue brought to the table, and while it led to long arguments, it also gave double the options when push came to shove.

and then once they’d break for the day, claude would slip away with hilda before dimitri could think twice about it. occasionally they’d share a meal together, but it was nothing like the dining hall at the academy. conversations of war and morality replaced the light banter between their groups of friends, and dimitri had never felt more disconnected from his peers in his life.

(not that he has the time to think of something as silly as camaraderie at a time like this. they need to have a plan ready to go once their allied battalions arrive. they need to be marching towards enbarr and taking the heads of anyone who stands in their way. they need to kill her, make her feel the pain that he’s been shouldering for more months and years than he likes to count, make her feel the pain of the people she’s stepped on to get her way, make her feel the pain of his father and stepmother and glenn and the thousands in duscur—)

“focus, boar.”

felix’s blade crosses close enough to dimitri’s face to pull him from his thoughts. “on the battlefield, you might not get this lucky.”

“if everyone’s as distracted as you are, then i’d disagree.” felix says, stepping out of dimitri’s attack range to reset. dimitri starts to do the same, but felix is already coming at him with another attack; he barely manages to halt the sword with his lance. “it’s like you’re getting worse, somehow.”

“forgive me if i’m not adjusting to everything as quickly as you are, felix. it’s not as if these situations happen everyday.”

“perhaps not.” felix hums. 

they reset again. dimitri lets out a long breath, watching felix fix his grip on his weapon. not for the first time, dimitri envies him—the laziness in his speech, the preciseness of his attacks, the way he moves without seeming to calculate a thing. felix just acts. maybe it’s an innate thing he’s picked up from his hours upon hours of practice, or maybe it’s just another quality felix had taken up from his brother. regardless, in moments like these, dimitri never forgets how lucky he is that he won’t ever have to truly be on the other end of felix’s blade.

still, the thought makes his mind wonder. would felix be able to keep this same cool had one of their friends been in his place? would he be able to treat them like strangers, despite their years of history together? it’s not as if felix was the type of person to deem everyone as a comrade, but dimitri knew that he was a lot softer at times than he appeared to be. they all had found a bit of grief when they’d been on their first mission versus civilians, but now they’d have to use those same tactics against familiar faces. he hates to imagine what he may have done had sylvain’s father sided with edelgard.

dimitri goes for another round of quick attacks, hoping to at the very least tire felix out. could that be the strategy he took up in real combat, or would he lean on the more passive-active style that the professor had showed him? hell, would he even be able to contain himself long enough to think rather than act once he was confronted with edelgard’s forces? dedue had still not returned, and felix would do nothing to steady him in the way that his friend did. their roles in his life may have been similar, but they were nothing alike.

“do you want to die?”

dimitri opens his mouth to speak, but he’s startled by the closeness of felix’s blade once more. a thin line of coldness, pressed lightly against his throat. “i—”

“if you can’t focus in here then you’ll just be another body to mourn out there.” he removes his sword, but his eyes stay locked on. dimitri could burn from the heat in them. “you walked right into that, you know. it’s a careless move, even for you. so i’ll ask again: do you want to die?”

“i just have a lot on my mind at the moment. surely you can understand that.” dimitri rubs at his face with his spare hand. “perhaps we should stop for today.”

“there’s always going to be things on your mind, you just need to learn how to work through them. do you think all your problems are going to fade away when you step onto the battlefield?” felix scoffs. “if that’s the case, i may as well tell my father to prepare your casket now.”

dimitri sighs, “felix—”

“if you die out there, it’s on you. not me, not ingrid, not anyone else on the field. you’ve always been too soft for the reality of war.” felix says. “how many more people have to die before you realize your baggage isn’t any harder to bear than theirs? we _ all _ have shit that we’re going to carry for the rest of our lives, but you seem to be the worst at it by far.”

“_no one _blames you the way they do me.” dimitri snaps. “i was there, felix. i was there for every single fall for every person i’ve ever cared for, and i did nothing to prevent their deaths—not my father’s, not glenn’s, not the professor’s. and people will talk about that long after i am dead, no matter what i do with whatever time i have left. so forgive if my mind slips away from our mock battle to think about the potential lives we may be taking in the coming months, or to question if i’ve made all the right choices leading up to this moment, or to ponder if dedue is another name to add to my ongoing list of ghosts. not all of us can be as cold as you.”

a heavy silence falls. then felix says, “get into position.” 

“what?”

felix moves to attack without another word, and dimitri aggressively guards himself in a burst of frustration. there’s no avoiding this; when felix is motivated, he doesn’t let up until he gets what he wants. so dimitri counters each of his attacks with swiftness, the clanging from their weapons ringing in his ears as he pushes his friend further back in the room. if felix wants to fight, then he is more than willing to bring it to him—

—and then his lance is shoved straight through the wall. felix holds steady just long enough for them both to realize and break into laughs.

they’re still children, dimitri remembers. they’d never asked for a war but they’d certainly gotten one, and even if he didn’t necessarily agree with felix, he still knew that he was making some good points. his problems would not disappear on the battlefield (if anything, they’d only grow larger) and he would have to push through them just as everyone else did. one wrong move would be his demise, and to let everyone’s hard work go to waste because of his own distractions would be his greatest regret yet.

“i don’t want you to ignore your feelings,” felix says later, on their way back from dinner. “i don’t even know if that’s a possible thing for you, considering the growing list of worries cycling through your mind. but you have to get better at hiding them. you’ll be no good to us otherwise.”

“perhaps when sylvain arrives, i’ll be able to take a few notes from you.” dimitri says, taking a reasonable amount of joy in the way his friend’s cheeks tint. “try to get some rest, we’ll have to make up for lost time tomorrow.”

“i won’t go any easier on you.” there’s a rare smile, small but noticeable, stretching across felix’s face. “but you as well, boar.”

—

blue sea moon

dimitri grows anxious.

it’s been nearly three months and there’s been nothing on the radar in regards to dedue. in some ways, the silence gives him hope—no body turning up means that he must still be out there—but at the same time, if dedue was still making his way back, he would have by now. fhirdiad was surely a good bit away on foot, and there was no telling the kind of journey that his friend could be having, but he was only supposed to make it to fraldarius in the first place. he tries not to let his mind explore the possibilities, but sometimes it’s all he can do to keep himself sane.

with dedue around, there was some degree that he was able to hold himself back without thinking twice of it; dedue was an anchor of a sort, a piece of his past he could look at not feel shamed by but also a dear friend that he’d grown close to for several reasons that he’d could go on about for days. even if dedue could not quite see it that same way, his patience, resilience, and reliability made himself a truly invaluable person for dimitri to have at his side, even more so than felix or ingrid. between the two of them, it felt like they could conquer almost any battle on or off the field. and with him being gone for so long, dimitri didn’t feel nearly as capable as he would have before.

the lack of dedue by his side grows more noticeably with each coming day, at that. he gets more irritable when things go sour, and it gets a bit harder to contain his anger at the state of the world when the reports coming in have less and less good news in them. claude reaches out every once in a while, offering a tea break or just a walk around to get fresh air, but dimitri can never find it in himself to cease working. idle time means idle thoughts, and that’s one of the last things he needs to consume himself with.

so he throws himself even more into preparations, and when judith suggests that he and claude make rounds outside of the house he takes it head-on. granted, he’s never been very natural when it comes to talking to new people, but he tries to follow claude’s lead as best he can. he knows that it’s important that these people trust him as much as they do their leader, but it helps knowing that some of them are also displaced from their homes in faerghus, too. dimitri just wishes he could give them something more than just words to hold onto. he doesn’t need any more ghosts to haunt him.

“i wasn’t expecting you to be awake.”

dimitri’s in one of the sitting rooms, a few candles lit around the table he’d piled a few things to review on. he can’t quite remember how long he’s been in there, but there’s a stiffness in his joints and the soft glow of the sun beginning to rise spilling from the windows that tells him he should probably retire soon. “it’s a surprise to myself as well.”

“i don’t know if it was passed on to you yet, but i’ll be heading off to visit house gloucester. lorenz is having…well, regardless, it’ll be beneficial for everyone involved.” claude says. he’s standing in the doorway, dressed a bit casually in loose dark pants and a billowing white shirt with hints of gold around the collar. it’s the first time in ages dimitri thinks he’s seen him anywhere close to being at peace. “ingrid and sylvain should be arriving today, yeah?”

dimitri nods, “ashe as well, since he’s been staying with ingrid in the interim.”

“doesn’t feel like it’s been only a few months since we were all last gathered. so much has changed…” claude shakes his head. “but not you, though.”

“what do you mean?”

claude huffs, tucking his hands into his pockets as he crosses the room. “you always sound so composed, even when the world is crumbling. i mean, the darkness under your eyes is new, but everything else…don’t you ever get tired of it, dimitri? don’t you ever just want to be angry?”

“perhaps it’s just a difference in expression. my ire must burn in another part of me, i suppose.” his eyes find interest in the papers in front of him, not the way claude leans on the table beside him, thigh brushing ever so slightly against his arm. “when the time is right—”

“i know you.” claude says. “i saw you back there, the way you cut your way to where you wanted to be. and the rumors of what you did in duscur have been circling around for ages. when exactly are you going to explode?”

dimitri presses his lips together, trying to find the right combination of words. it’s the same sort of things felix would bait him with in their practices, the pushing of his limits until he gives in just long enough to regret it. but what does claude gain from seeing him drop his composure? he has no active title, no land to call his own—having him fall even further from grace would be a waste, wouldn’t it? and would it even matter when the world around them is splitting every which way as it is? “does that matter?”

“maybe not in the conventional sense, no.” claude hums. “but it’s nice to have an idea of what exactly i’ll be getting into. we haven’t fought as allies in quite some time, and i expect that we’ll be out and taking strides against the empire together in the near future.”

“i’m more than stable enough, if that sates your interest. not nearly as animalistic as felix makes me out to be.” dimitri stands, gathering his things. he suddenly feels too on edge, like a kettle about to boil over. claude is simply carelessly walking through a minefield. “and i suggest that the next time you bring up something like this you make it sound less accusing. everything i’ve said and done has been well within my rights.”

he starts to walk off, but claude catches his wrist. “i’m not accusing you of anything. like i said, i just want to know what i’m getting into. we haven’t really had the time to talk much about the reality of our situation.”

“the reality of our situation is that we have a common enemy and seek to defeat her before she reaches either of us.” dimitri says. he meets claude’s eyes as he adds, “nothing more, nothing less.”

something shifts. the air…no, his face feels hotter, and claude lets go of him. leans back against the table, completely relaxed as he says, “i don’t believe you.”

it feels like a rubber band, stretched too far and then snapping in two. dimitri finds claude’s mouth, takes him in so quickly he hears the table creak at the shift in weight. it’s much different than the more secretive exchanges they’d held in the past—he holds the control now, in a way that feels more weighted than before. and maybe that’s what claude wanted from the beginning, the real question laying on his tongue when he’d come over to the table. was he more attractive like this, dimitri wonders, when he stopped holding himself back? when he holds the other’s hips down with just his thumbs, does it make him more notable?

claude’s arms snake around his neck and there’s something tight curling inside of dimitri’s stomach. _ safe distances _, he remembers, but things like this are both rare and valuable in times such as these. rare, in the sense of closeness that only comes when two people are alone, willing, and able. valuable, in the sense that if he died tomorrow, he’d at least have this for now. joy is fleeting; why not savor in their youth, like the teenagers they were supposed to be? if this were any other time, or if they were other people, they wouldn’t have to worry about war or faith or responsibility. and why should he have to lose out on it now, when his life is already not his own to live? what does he even have left that is his alone?

_ anger _, he remembers, pulling away only to dive right back in. his anger he claims because it is the only thing that he’s manifested on his own. not the hatred, not the vengeance; they’d been inherited from those who’d gone on. but the anger at edelgard, for choosing to pave her way with unnecessary bodies, and the anger towards everyone who had gone along with the plot to take away everything he had worked towards, everything that he had left. the anger towards felix for making him feel as if his rage were something to be ashamed of when it gave him more power and drive than anything else in the world. the anger towards claude for pushing him to this limit for what seems like nothing more than his amusement. these were the things that cut him the most deeply, the things that got him most angry because they were actions directed to him and him only. 

so he takes this moment for what it is: a release. he moves his lips to claude’s cheek, trailing down to his jaw and then his throat. he revels in the sounds that he makes (loud enough to fill his ears, quiet enough that it doesn’t echo and fall into the hall) with every movement and point of contact. yet he can’t remember the last time he did anything like this, nor the last time he was touched or needed in this way, and it makes him want this even more. there’s a part of him that wants to push forward—and he would bet that claude wouldn’t complain—but there’s also the overwhelming part of him that is aware of the dangers of this. were this to be something…_ real _, he supposes, it would mean weakness. claude is a good man, he knows, underneath all the tricks and deflections, but he is also a distraction. and with the goals he has in mind, the things he must do to reclaim himself, only a good defense would get him there.

it is with that thought that he pulls away and tries to not think much of the heat that now consumes his entire body, nor of the dazed, hungry look in claude’s eyes. he gathers his things for a second time, clears his throat. “i…i must apologize, for that.”

“are you gonna say sorry every time you give into your desires? we’re married, after all.” claude raises a brow. “and i wasn’t exactly begging you to stop.”

“that’s beside the point, and it is completely inappropriate behavior—”

“you don’t have to put on a show here, it’s just us.” he says. “two people in a situation greater than they’d ever expected, trying to help one another out. no one’s gonna barge in and condemn you for seeking some time alone with your husband. and if they did, i doubt it would end well for them.”

dimitri doesn’t even know where to begin with that. 

claude continues, “i know you’re hurting, given the amount of shit you’re carrying is arguably worse than mine is. but we were friends before this, and i’d hope to be friends after this, so i want you to know that you can lean on me when you need to. the mask you’re putting on is only gonna hold for so long, i doubt you’ll make it to the end of this with it still in tact. and while i’m not the best at talking about feelings or anything, i’ll listen. or distract, if that’s what you prefer. just…whatever you need, i’m around.”

“i just…” he runs a hand through his hair, “i need to know what happened to him. i’ve lost more than enough sleep trying to figure things out myself, but i don’t know what else to do.”

“then answers i can get. this situation with lorenz shouldn’t take longer than a few days, a week at most to solve, but i can send another party to investigate in the meanwhile.” claude hops down from the table, adjusting his clothes. “you, however, need to refocus on being a good host to our friends and try to catch up on some sleep. they’re gonna need you more than ever now, dima.”

the nickname is not new, but unused. dimitri sincerely hopes that his surprise at it did not spill onto his face. “i can do only my best.”

the sun rises, claude departs, and dimitri rests his eyes, if only for a short while.

—

verdant rain moon

things feel more normal with friendly faces around.

it’s easier to pull himself out of his head when there’s more people to call for his attention, and dimitri finds himself falling into the familiar leadership role he’d had at the academy. felix and sylvain lapse back into their tired way of showing each other affection (this being felix heavily critiquing him and sylvain pretending to either listen or care), and ashe and ingrid focus more on mounted combat. meals feel less stilted and the halls less empty, even with the knowledge that something bigger is coming. he shouldn’t say it—knows that he shouldn’t get used to it—but it does make it all feel more like a home.

and when claude returns with lorenz and marianne in tow, there is no time for a moment of discomfort (nor time to question what had brought them both here). a date for their first attack had been set, just barely two months out, and it meant that there was no more room for error. fluidity between themselves as commanders and their large body of a battalion would be the key to their success, and dimitri was willing to do anything to achieve it. in the meantime, they’d sent a safe number of bodies towards myrddin already to make sure that their portion of the alliance would stay untouched in their leave, and rodrigue had rallied a few more smaller points in faerghus for them to use as needed. things were coming together, even if he was still falling apart.

the headaches are worsening with each report of the growing death toll, and if anyone notices a change in his demeanor they’re polite enough to not say it to his face. dimitri knows that they won’t get better, not until they have done something to prove that those deaths were not in vain, but he wishes just for a moment that he could be selfish. it would be nice to fall asleep with the same ease as everyone else, to be assured by their work that things would get better, to still walk with the same confidence and pride he’d had once before, to not be burdened with the lingering presence of those who had left him. but at the end of the day, those impulses do not win against his heart’s desire to right these wrongs.

still, he does admittedly seek…comfort, for lack of better terminology, from claude. it is perhaps one of his weaker choices, but it is one that is solely for him—a brief moment of selfishness in a lifetime of acting for the betterment of others. dimitri can’t bring himself to feel too badly about it when they’re pressed together in the nearest secluded space, heavy breaths filling his ear, fingernails creating new but temporary scars, and if claude’s reaction is anything to go by then there’s little room to doubt he doesn’t also benefit from their excursions. besides, their relationship is not completely physically; claude does keep his word about looking into dedue’s whereabouts, and while he’s yet to turn up much more than what had already been discovered, dimitri appreciates the effort. perhaps their partnership was even more invaluable than originally expected.

“you’re the prince of faerghus, aren’t you?”

it’s another unreasonably warm morning that dimitri has yet to adjust to, abandoning his more formal dress for something breathable. judith has sent them out once more to interact with the people, but claude has turned it into more of a tour scenario for he and felix. hilda tags along as well, but her only additions to what claude says are about the weather or the amount of walking they’ve done. they’ve only stopped a few times, when approached or to duck into a shop for air. he’s a bit surprised to see the young face he turns around to, but puts on a friendly face nonetheless. “i was, yes.”

“and is,” felix corrects. 

“you know how to fight real good then, yeah?” dimitri takes in the sight of the girl, round face dusted with grime and a front chipped tooth still coming in. he can’t tell if she was born here or not, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. it’s easy to picture this same conversation happening in fraldarius, too. “because my mommy said that we gots to be able to defend ourselves when the big army comes, so i found a really cool sword to use, but i’m not so greats at swingin’ it yet.”

claude’s face shifts to that familiar charm, turned up to ten. “you gotta be awful brave and strong to swing a sword just right, y’know." 

“i am! i am brave and _ super _ strong!” she huffs, “just watch!”

dimitri does watch as the girl confidently darts across the busy road, turning behind a building and then reappearing while holding something wrapped in white paper just barely above her head, knees wobbling. it is as amusing as it is a bit concerning, but he knows better than to question a situation like this too heavily. he can’t imagine what it might’ve been like to lose his parents and have to retell it to every curious person he’d ever met. he could hardly explain it to byleth without losing more of himself.

once they join her across the street, she’s already holding the sword carefully in her hands—a levin sword at that, if his arguments about weaponry with felix had done him well. magic-laced, but equally powerful on its own for close range attacks. “that _ is _ a pretty cool sword.”

“told ya!” she starts to lift it up again, into a striking position, but it clatters to the ground. it feels like a lifetime ago when he was not much better.

“you have to grip it tighter in the handle before you move around like that,” felix is already bending to her level, adjusting her hands. “keep it steady, make sure your stance is strong.”

“get a good idea of your target, too. lift too high and you’ll oversell it, too low and you might miss completely.” hilda adds.

claude feigns surprise, “why, it’s almost as if you _ do _ have some combat readiness in you!”

“that’s just stuff i overheard, i’m not that good at applying—”

it’s kind of like a sting, almost like a shock. dimitri pats his outer thigh through his pants, feels the wetness of blood spilling out, then glances at the girl who’s stumbling over her words to apologize. felix has the sword now, a protective hold on it, a question lingering in his eyes.

_ was that on purpose?_

dimitri looks over at claude, who’s also taken the defense with hilda. there’s a short moment where he questions if this was staged, too, but he shakes the thought away. instead, he takes the sword from felix, bends down to the girl’s height, and places it back in her hands. her eyes are far too watery to be an act of dramatics, and if he were to be taken out like this, then it would be by his own guidance.

“what is your name?” he asks.

she wipes at her nose, “edith.”

“when you hold this sword, edith,” the name is so close that he has try not to growl it out. “you have to be very careful how you point it. and when you take aim at those big armies, you have to make sure that those bodies don’t get back up. you’re very strong, and extremely brave, but you must remain smart as well. remember that, and you might just survive until the end.”

and then he stands once more, ignoring the blood still running down his leg. turns to felix, calling him back to his side, and walks away. but the memory sits with him the entire way back towards the house, the bursts of chatter here and there fading to the background. 

his time in derdriu had not been met with open resistance, but he knew that it was there. the alliance was not in need of a king or ruler; it was never meant to join forces in the way that they’d reluctantly done so, and it made sense that people would be against it. ignoring the more obvious reasons, their union would potentially mean an end to the lineage of both their crests, as well as a future opening for claude’s role at the roundtable. it meant more than simply bringing in an outsider, but bringing in a wave of unending change that could threaten the way they’d all lived for so long. and dimitri could respect their anger, even welcomed it, but it did not change the fact that no matter what happens in the long term, they’d have to live that long to see it, first.

it makes the event more unsettling for the four of them, claude immediately excusing himself to speak with judith after he’s been bandaged and helped into bed. felix has never seemed so pale in his life, dimitri thinks, and he’s yet to leave his side, even to speak with sylvain. there’s a level of fear that he’s never seen before, and he would wish anything to not see it again. 

“is this the reality of war you’d warned me about?” he tries.

felix scowls, “if you’d died—”

“it would not have been your fault.” dimitri shifts in bed, growing hot from the blankets. “each choice i make is my own. i have plenty of other wounds to showcase that fact.”

he shakes his head, “but i was helping her. my hands were on that blade, just the same as hers…”

“you are not to blame for showing some kindness, felix. besides, this sort of thing will more than likely happen again. now we know to be more cautious. ” he says. “i’m ordering you to go get some rest.”

felix starts to argue but then the door opens, claude revealing himself with a tray of food. “i’ll second that. don’t worry, i’ll put him to bed soon, too.”

“i don’t recall requesting that service from you,” dimitri hums, watching his friend excuse himself, the door closing behind him.

“a freebie, if you’ll accept it.” claude sets the tray gingerly on his lap, then scoots his way onto the edge of the bed. “i had to bother sylvain and ingrid about telling me about your favorite stuff, y’know. not sure if this is anywhere close to how it’s supposed to look, but an attempt was made.”

dimitri tries to hide his smile, grabbing a fork and diving right in. the smell is there, but if the taste was lacking he’d never know. “i appreciate this, but it’s not necessary.”

“i would say surviving a potential attack on your life is the best time for something like this, dima, but we can agree to disagree.”

he eats in relative silence, claude stealing a bite away every now and then. it’s a rare moment in which dimitri would admit that he feels genuinely weary; the sun is barely beginning to set and his eyes feel heavy on their own accord. they were suppose to strategize tonight, and it would be worrisome if they got behind, but were he to move from his current position he truly believes that half the house would riot.

and he must also admit that it is nice to have a real moment of solitude with claude. he could probably count on both hands the amount of times they’d been left alone and weren’t indulging in other things, but this was as good a reminder as any that they were still fairly good friends. they were going to need to rely on one another quite often in the near future, and this was just putting down the groundwork. trust was something that maybe dimitri gave away a bit too freely—but this, this is something he wanted to believe in more than anything else.

“stay,” slips from his mouth before he can stop it, and claude quirks a brow, “i just…”

“i know.” claude sets the tray aside, then makes himself comfortable on the other side of the bed. “long day, after all.”

“long day,” dimitri echoes, body warm, eyes falling shut.

—

horsebow moon

it should go without saying that dimitri is accustomed to loss; he’s grieved for nearly as long as he’s been alive. thus, he is consciously aware of his own lifespan, and aware that at given moment, someone is dying. some deaths are natural, unavoidable at best. others are carefully planned and spark years upon years of suffering, affecting those who may not have even been initially involved. the only constant is that no life will exist forever, unless it is through words and stories. dimitri knows all this, knows that there are no exceptions to it, and yet each time is worse than the last.

they’re in the war room, rodrigue going on about something he can’t be bothered to remember, when someone comes to the door and claude excuses himself. dimitri thinks nothing of it until there’s a shriek that follows shortly after, and then they’re all moving into the hall at once. it is a scene that he remembers in such detail, had he any artistic talent he could recount it with ease: ingrid, face buried into ashe’s chest; sylvain, eyes widened with a hand covering his mouth. felix is striding over—words are coming out of his mouth, but dimitri can’t hear them—so purposely, arms going to block sight lines, and then claude meets his eyes. his lips don’t move, but dimitri knows that look better than he knows anything in the world. 

when he moves, everything feels quiet. his chest is so tight that every breath he takes is like a blade sinking in just to be pulled back out. the guard’s hands aren’t as stable as they were before, but the glint from his palms is the finality that dimitri had been dreading all along. everyone is speaking now, he can feel the vibrations of their voices, but he can’t take his eyes away from it. 

the sun would catch it, from time to time, when they made their rounds at the academy. he remembers the first time dedue had spoken freely about its origin: his mother taking him to the market and lingering over the set, only for him to turn around and gift them to her a few weeks later. it was that same fondness that he spoke of the recipes that had been passed down for generations, cooking them from time to time when it was his turn in the kitchen, or of the traditions that’d he’d grown up celebrating, but never fully understood. moments like these were hard to get out of his friend, yet dimitri treasured them all the same. they were pieces of dedue that made him who he was, pieces that added up into one of the dearest friends dimitri could ever imagine to have. 

so to leave only a bloodstained earring in his wake felt fitting, in some ways.

“no body,” the guard confirms for what must be the hundredth time. “just this. we searched the area, but with the amount of blood…” 

“dismissed.” his voice doesn’t sound like his own. he can’t tear his eyes away from his own hands now, the golden accessory still catching the light. “i think a break is in order, for everyone.”

felix walks a reasonable distance behind him, but he doesn’t say a word, choosing to stand guard outside of his room instead of converse. dimitri would thank him, had he the words, but the moment his door closes it finally hits him: dedue is not coming back. 

his feet guide him towards the mirror, and dimitri thinks it is the first time in his entire stay that he’s actually taken a look at himself. his hair is probably longer than it has ever been, lazily pushed behind an ear, and his eyes are dark and heavy. his body looks both thinner and larger at the same time; a ill-timed growth spurt paired with his unpredictable eating habits. and his hands hold what could very well be the last bit of his humanity, steady and careful. he feels unlike himself.

maybe that’s why there’s a blank in his memory. one moment he’s silent, still in front of his own image. the next his hand is bloodied, hot red warmth running down his wrist and neck. dimitri blinks a few times, turns his head this way and then the other. perhaps the earring is not as becoming on him as it was dedue, he decides, but in time it may suit him well. or perhaps he’d succumb to infection. whichever happened first. he’d wear it with the same pride he wore every other scar on his body until his death.

_ you’re being reckless, your highness._

he can hear dedue’s voice so clearly as he cleans himself up in the bathroom, taking care with his ear and less of it with the rest of his body. he hears it in the same way he hears his father telling him _ keep your head down _, or in the same way he can feel glenn’s hand on his shoulder, or in the same way he hears byleth’s laugh every now and again. it feels so real that sometimes he lets himself believe it, but they aren’t really there. he cannot bring them back, nor can he turn back time and prevent their deaths altogether, no matter how hard he wishes for it. their stories, their legacies, their desires and wants and needs—they live on through him. and he is a vessel that is more than willing to serve that purpose.

dimitri peers out of his room, once he’s changed. felix is deep in discussion with hilda and claude, but they all turn to him at the door’s creaking. “are we continuing?”

“i…” felix looks hesitant. would he be the next one to fall? “we were just discussing dinner, that’s all.”

he looks to hilda, then to claude. “i won’t be requiring anything, if that’s the issue.”

“but you should really—”

“i just need some time. i can’t ask for much of it, but at the very least, just tonight.” dimitri says. “tomorrow we’ll just have to work harder to get back on schedule. i’m sure that no one is opposed?" 

no one says a word.

“goodnight, then.” he nods once, shuts the door. waits for the murmuring to fade, for the footsteps to be a safe distance away.

then he cries.

—

wyvern moon

the blackouts become more regular. most of the time it’s unimportant things, like how he got from point a to point b, but then sometimes he’ll be fighting off an attack from sylvain and suddenly have ashe pinned up against the wall. were he more himself, it would certainly be a cause for concern; his health was just as much priority as anything else. but the infirmary here is lacking, and he is tired of being the latest spectacle for everyone to watch. dimitri decides that this is just one of those things he’d have to tackle on his own. 

it’s just like it was all those years ago, when he walked in the streets of fhirdiad covered in scars and tattered cloth. _ monster _ , they’d called him, _ beast _ . _ traitor. _back then he’d been able to push through it because dedue was there at his side, to defend him and negate their claims. the people he’d protected in duscur over the lives that his own people had lost, he knew it to be the right thing then and still now. but when he imagines it now—the name calling and displaced shame—he is not sure if they would be wrong to assume it of him. his hands would be no cleaner than edelgard’s by the end of this, after all. they would be the same.

and perhaps she was right, too. dimitri had read the reports, seen secondhand the damage crests had caused among those close to him, understood that the church was built for all the wrong reasons, and knew that things could not get better if they continued on in this way. reformation seemed to be the only logical next step, but purging the innocents and the weak along with those who had caused actual harm was not part of that answer. that was where their similarities ended; he only wished to put a stop to the corruption that was already within these powerful institutions. starting completely anew might sound nice on paper, but using fear and death as a means to unify and replace the social order was no better that what was going on at present.

these are thoughts he keeps to himself, or at least contained to the privacy of he, dedue, and the professor. glenn and his father wouldn’t be able to wrap their heads around it, not without calling for even more blood to be spilt, and dimitri had grown tired of that debate long ago. he would put a stop to edelgard as soon as that moment was presented to him, this was certain, but those who aligned themselves with her…he was still unsure. perhaps he’d give them a moment to right themselves before they joined her in the afterlife. 

“dimitri.”

he’s…in front of a window. the plants outside had long since lost their colors, and the sun’s heat was not nearly as sweltering as it had been before. still, it is not quite in season to break out the warmest cloths he’d brought from fhirdiad. he does hope that the snowfall here can still capture the same joy it’d brought him as a child. “judith.”

for all of her efforts, she seems unbothered by the war, or by him. dimitri cannot say he’d given the warmest of welcomes to claude’s allies, but there was a time where he did try to make the divide between their houses a little less steep. he could only assume that the events of recent months have backpedalled any progress there, though. “first attack is set for next month.”

“do you believe we are ready?”

“i believe that we’ll give them more than they’re expecting,” she says. “i don’t like to count my victories before i’ve had them. you have to want it, rather than be caught in your own smugness.”

dimitri nods, “i can see that.”

“i know that our more formal war council meetings are no longer needed, but i do think that you and claude could make a great deal of difference if you continued them on your own. be it with the generals, or just the nobles you’ve both gathered here…” judith trails off. “he’s already down there all hours of the night, may as well do something productive.”

dimitri nods again, turning his attention back outside. “i’ll think on it.”

“it’s all i ask.” he can feel it—the moment her hand lingers over his shoulder, then the moment she decides better of it. _ good _, he thinks as she leaves him. he doesn’t need it.

dimitri is unsure of how much longer he stands there faking contemplation, but eventually he does make his way towards the stairs. his relationships with others had admittedly been weakening as of recent, and claude had not been an exception this time. he can admit that the space has given him a lot of clarity, but he also knows how it must look on him, to be the eternally grieving prince that’s slowly become a ticking time bomb. forging bonds is something he’s grown more and more reluctant to do, given his track record with protecting those he keeps close, yet for things to be successful until the very end, he must take the risk.

unfortunately for all parties, the war room’s door is cracked open, and the voices inside flow out quite carelessly.

“…not sure if this is the best route to take at the moment.” that’s hilda, he notes, but her tone is more focused than he’s ever recognized it. “i mean, look at him, claude. do you really think he’s fit to take on everything on his own right now?”

there’s a scoff. _ claude_. “when else will this sort of opportunity arise? i can’t wait for him to be stable, we’ve waited long enough as it is. let the trail of bodies be their legacies; i never asked to be apart of the clean-up crew for their mess of a war in the first place.”

_ they’re talking about you. _

it’s the professor speaking this time, but dimitri could’ve connect those dots on his own. what opportunity are they waiting for?

“regardless of who started it or why it’s happening, you’re still responsible for our people. i do not…i cannot bear to imagine what they would say if you go through with this.” marianne says. 

“my responsibility to the people here is far different than what you’re making it out to be, and you know it. this is for the best of everyone. if i want to secure our future, then there’s no other option besides me just going away.” he says. “and it won’t be forever. strengthening almyra is just as important as anything else, especially with their history of creating the strongest of warriors. dimitri is going through a lot, yes, but we’d be fools to doubt his ability to show up when people need him. you saw what happened before, he’s more of a threat to his enemies than he is to his allies.”

hilda sighs, “so you’re just going to leave the fate of everything for an indeterminate amount of time in the hands of a beast, then.”

“i know how it looks, but i trust him.”

“yeah, trust him enough to keep your whole backup plan a secret. you can’t even convince yourself of your own lies.” there’s the sound of a chair being pushed back. “what’s the real point of this, claude?”

a pause. “if all else fails, we have to be able to start from somewhere, hilda. this war is unlike anything ever written in history, and i’m not going blindly into this fight knowing that i could trade my death for something more. the almyrians are my people, too.”

_ the almyrians…? _

dimitri can’t process it. his mind jumps from one thought to the next—claude is abandoning him—and his head just _ aches _. it’s enough to make him want to fall to his knees but he can’t, can’t give up what he knows for a moment of weakness. he climbs the stairs once more with his hand locked on to his forehead, squeezing tightly but not tight enough.

it just doesn’t make sense. _ claude is leaving _. it doesn’t add up, was this the plan all along? would he truly become the figure of power that the alliance never wanted or needed? would he add their burdens to the ones of his own people, to those that had survived the tragedy of duscur, to the lives that had been lost and would continue to be lost? and claude, he has held ties with almyra this entire time? he would give away his leadership and take yet another risk instead of sticking with a safer bet, for what? there was no honor in something like this, he would…he would be hated by everyone, wouldn’t he? like dimitri, like edelgard, they were so alike, weren’t they?

what was he supposed to do with this information? confronting claude seemed to be pointless, given he would not listen to the reason of his confidants. he could tell rodrigue or judith but it wouldn’t really do him any favors, nor would it really stop the problem from existing; they’d more than likely just reorder the troops and wait for the inevitable, hoping to push along without him if need be. no, this was just all too reckless, there had to be _ something else, _something like—

he could fall.

there was nothing more for dimitri to lose at this point, and his back was already a target. people from every side wanted him dead, didn’t they? they wanted to see him fall because of what he’d done, or what they’d _ thought _ he’d done, or what he might possibly do. he could just let himself drift away, push claude to think more strategically instead of simply evading, keep him in everyone’s good graces. it was a sacrifice that required the loss of his own goals, but perhaps felix would take them on in his stead. not that he’d ever ask it of him.

“you know, eavesdropping can make you plenty more enemies than friends around here.”

dimitri has no idea how much time has passed, but he’s in the foyer. or at least he thinks he is. lorenz is in front of him, looking pleased for some reason or another. “what—" 

“don’t deny it, i saw you down there. it’d be improper of me to keep this from claude, but i think you know more than even i do at this point.” lorenz continues. “of course, if you decided to level the playing field here, then i’m sure secrets would remain just that.”

dimitri is stunned. “are you blackmailing me?”

“i wouldn’t use that word, but since you’ve decided to…” lorenz shrugs, leaning against the wall. “i mean, i know what i’d do if i were you.”

he isn’t sure if it’s the tone, or the knowingness in the other boy’s face, but his hand is quick to wrap its way around lorenz’s neck. tight enough to threaten, but not enough to leave lasting harm. “i don’t believe it’s very wise to go picking fights with those stronger than you. situations like this…i cannot imagine they’re very enjoyable, from the way your face looks.”

“what are you—put him down, you idiot!” he hears felix before he sees him, before he’s being pushed out of his hold. “you’ve lost it entirely, haven’t you?”

dimitri glances at lorenz, who meets his eyes and quickly makes himself scarce. “not quite yet.”

“this isn’t a game! you can’t just go around, doing whatever you please to whomever. imagine if someone else had seen that.” felix grabs his face, makes sure that their eyes meet. dimitri sees nothing but darkness. “what in the goddess’s name is wrong with you?”

“don’t waste your worries on me now, felix. it’s far too late for that.” he puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder, in the way his brother had what feels like an eternity ago. “everything will be fine soon enough.”

“dimitri—”

he tries a smile, “it was just a misunderstanding. we’ve resolved it.”

“you’re doing it again, aren’t you. i can see it clear as day, that beast seeping right out of you.” felix laughs, but it lacks humor. “you’re just the same as always, then, only now you’ve decided to embrace it.”

_ what choice do i have left? _ he wants to ask, but the conversation is pointless and tired. felix excuses himself and once more he is alone with his thoughts, his ghosts, and the unending headache. this is the way things have to be. this is the only way things will change or succeed. this is bigger than him, all of it, and he can do nothing besides listen and act; he is a puppet, bending at the will of both the dead and the living, for the rest of his days.

this is the way.

—

red wolf moon

“today,” claude says, “we fight back.”

dimitri has lost count of how many days have passed since they left the capital and started fighting in earnest. he has no concept of how many bodies he’s knocked out of his path, be them still breathing or long slipped away. he no longer harbors memories of the conversations he’s had, no longer bothers in engaging in moments that will mean nothing in the end. but dimitri knows, with all certainty, that this is the day that he dies.

the imperial army has sent waves upon waves of small troops to diminish their numbers, but they’ve managed to hold strong. dimitri often leads the battalions, creating paths for the rest to follow, but he takes no pride in it. he simply was biding his time until now, when he was certain to be of need, when they made it to fodlan’s locket and edelgard began to take them seriously. the end is so close that he is afraid that if he takes his eyes off claude for even a moment, he’ll fade away and dimitri will lose his chance. 

so he relies on the bridge of their old camaraderie, and on their teamwork thus far to stay close to him. there’s a brief moment that claude slips away to talk to hilda, but he’s watched their body language well enough to know that the plan has not changed. they all prepare as if this were any other battle, and dimitri can do just the same, even when they all know this is very different.

claude is good at talking, motivating the others. he knows how the say the hard things without sugarcoating them, but also making sure that no one blamed, and that they never lose hope. it’s part of that familiar charm that makes him so invaluable, so reliable in a leader during a war as harsh as this that dimitri knows that to lose him would be worse than surrender. they could be so good, if claude stayed, so strong and effective and become something worth fearing, even more than the imperial army itself. and he believes that because he knows in his heart that it is true, that his presence will only become more of a burden in the long run, and that this is what is truly best for fodlan, if claude would only see it himself.

_ you could do so much more. _

if he turns his head away from the people in front of him, or if he allows himself to unfocus from the present, he would see the professor at his side. they’d always found faith in him, for whatever reason, and having it now made his skin crawl. he was no better than their enemies, simply a monster walking around men. he did not deserve pity, nor a chance at reclaiming the throne, nor a future with these people who would always be afraid of him, should they admit it or not. 

_ my strength lies with you, your highness. _

and dedue—dimitri feels the weight of his loss every day, hanging from his ear. there was no true way for him to right the wrongs that he’d done, to keep those promises he’d made without him to see it through. let it be written on the long list of failures he’d leave behind that this one was the greatest; dedue had always deserved someone better. perhaps he’d get the chance to explain it to him, should they meet in another life.

_ great success comes with great sacrifice._

his father and glenn would understand his decision more than anyone else. they had found themselves in his position before, accepted the consequences despite how detrimental they’d become. and because of them, he was able to make it this far and save someone else more admirable. claude could end this war, perhaps even more peacefully than dimitri would alone. he just needed some help in finding his direction, should he accept it.

“dimitri,” he almost flinches out of the hand on his shoulder, but it’s felix. the only person alive who could talk him out of this, but he would never have the chance to. “don’t hold back.”

“i won’t.” he says, and the hand falls. the warmth is lost.

he’s wearing his father’s coat. rodrigue had saved it, said that he’d continue to grow into it, and pinned it onto his shoulders with care that dimitri had not received in a long while. it drags in the fresh snow falling on the mountain’s terrain, but he is unbothered by it. its placement is just as temporary as his is, and perhaps it is fitting that the very last shred honor he showcases be in his own kingdom’s colors.

so he fights.

dimitri moves with the same blind direction he’d been using all month, but he refuses to let claude slip away from him. he jumps in front of blades and arrows more times than he can count, more times than he really notices even. he’s probably more wound than skin by now, and it only seems to make the lord more agitated.

“you know.” claude lets loose another arrow, pins them in the shoulder.

dimitri pushes another attacker away from with his lance, “i do.”

“then why are you doing this? i can’t secure things there from the battlefield.” another arrow is shot, this time in the knee. “or from my grave.”

“because the people here need you more than they do me, claude. you give them something to look forward to.” dimitri says. “i’m just a reminder of what they’ll become.”

they’re so close to the edge now, but not in the way that claude would prefer. no one is watching them, caught up in their own battles. “dima—”

“just promise me that you won’t let her win.” the winds are stronger over here, he notices. it would look like an accident. “and…tell felix that he was right.”

“don’t do this.” he’s getting off of the wyvern, walking over. “dimitri, it’s not like that—i changed my mind!”

“it’s not on him.”

and then he falls.

**Author's Note:**

> second part will be in claude's pov, probably posted in a week or two!


End file.
